Chop, Chop, Chop
by PotterheadAna02
Summary: Sirius is made to cut his hair for James and Lily's wedding and hilarity ensues. Fun guaranteed! Sequel now posted, where Sirius is in Azkaban. Won Third in 'My Boring Life' competition, Judge's Pick in QLFC Season 3.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All rights belong to JKR. All lefts to me, heh.

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**Written for My Boring Life Challenge by alyssialui.**

**Challenge-Write a fic on 'Sirius gets a haircut'.**

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Sirius Black was sure that if Cupid floated somewhere near him now, he would personally _Crucio_ the wretched creature.

It was the day when his best friend James Potter was to marry the love of his life, Lily Evans. Sirius personally liked the idea of love on all other days, but today, just because James was in love with Lily, he had to cut his glorious long mane.

It was a catastrophe.

Sirius had painstakingly grown his hair past his ears and now tied them up in a ponytail which when opened grazed his shoulder blades at the top. He proudly swished his hair at his friends' faces whenever he proved a point in front of them and even started giving Lily tips on how to groom her hair. That particular little talk had ended with Sirius receiving stinging scratches along his arm.

Then, the wedding day.

Lily had let James decide the venue and events, but put her foot down on certain issues, most important of them being what she called 'the monstrosity of Sirius's hair'. Her only condition on letting Sirius attend the wedding as the best man was him getting his hair cut. James tried to play the pacifist between the two and the conversation had gone something like this:

"_Lily, let him tie his hair up. No one will even notice him, they'll all be looking at how beautiful you look and he will be in the sidel-"_

_Glare._

"_Okay, I'll talk to him."_

"_..."_

"_Sirius, just imagine, it's going to be a hot day, if you chop off your hair, you'll feel breezy and won't be sweating and stinky at the end, eh?"_

"_No. My hair, my life."_

"_Well, you do know that most ladies like men with short hair and hair certainly not longer than __theirs__, so how will I ever set you up with your sweetheart?"_

"_Tell your missus to boss you, not me."_

"_Padfoot, you listen to me once and for all times to come till she becomes Lily Potter. I love that woman and I want to marry her. I want __you__ to give us a toast __and__ be my best man, so at the risk of me personally doing the honour of mowing off that hideous mop on your head, go ahead. Don't cut your hair. But I will never forgive you if my wedding day doesn't go the way I want it to."_

Brother had glared at brother for a while before Sirius sighed and coughed, "Whipped", promptly earning a smack on his head by his bespectacled friend. Shrugging, he announced, "Ah, the sacrifice a man has to make, even if _he_ isn't is in love." Waving pompously at the amused James, he swirled rapidly and stalked off, his hair whipping James in the face.

After a while, his surge of brotherly love had died down and he scowled helplessly as Remus sat him down on a chair, pumping his leg up and down furiously.

"Sirius...be still," Remus spoke with infinite patience, a pair of scissors in his hand while Peter Pettigrew helped James with his coat in the adjacent room.

_Snip._

"You know, I bet she'll make him make me become less of a Marauder once she becomes a Potter. That woman is intent upon making me into a girl," Sirius grumbled.

Remus frowned, "That's Lily you're talking about, Padfoot."

Rolling his eyes, Sirius mumbled, "Yes, she has a heart of gold and is good for James and all...but still, she's like the annoying sister I never had!"

"Now be quiet and don't fidget."

_Snip._

"Oh, I can feel my _manhood_ sapping away."

"Sirius."

"Okay."

_Snip._

"Maybe I should cut _her_ hair as repayment!" Sirius clapped his hand on his thigh and Remus jumped.

_SNIP._

"Um."

"What, Remus?"

"How would you like a brand new, original haircut?"

"I guess it'll be okay enough. I'll plot the demise of her hair in the meanwhile!"

_Snip. Chop, chop, chop. Snip. Snip._

"Done already?"

"Wait, before you look into the mirror...I want you to repeat after me. 'Remus Lupin is my brother. Lily Evans is a new member of our family. James loves her, so I love her too.' Come on, say it."

"Moony, are you going Loony? Ha, how bad can it-EVANS!"

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Sirius grimaced as a gust of wind caressed his neck now exposed to the elements after almost a year of protection under his glossy curtain. His hair fell in choppy amateurish locks onto his forehead and tickled the top of his earlobe in what had been a hasty attempt to cover up the big cutting of a bunch of his hair by Remus. Rising, he clinked a spoon against his glass and everyone looked at him.

"Hey, people. We are gathered here to celebrate the marriage of my brother, my comrade-in-arms, my best friend James Potter, and the woman who ensnared his heart, Lily Evans...Potter, now. Many may not know this, but I was his wingman back in Hogwarts and basically, they owe their happiness to me. You're welcome, by the way. James, take care of this lovely woman here, you lucky rascal. Keep her happy or Remus and I will slam your guts out and Peter will punch you down, eh Pete? Alright, I'll tone it down, don't pulverise me with your glares. Geez, haven't even been married an hour and already ganging up! Lily, keep my brother safe from harm and love him to bits, every single day. He deserves it. Wow, don't cry now, you'll ruin your makeup! Not that you needed it anyway, really. Ah, there's your smile! We'd begun to miss it. Okay, I'll wrap this up now, my knees hurt. Stay strong. Stay together, because...well, then you'll each have your back always. All my love to you two. To James and Lily!"

Grinning, he sat down and everyone cheered. Then, people started moving to the dance floor following the enthusiastic newlyweds. Sirius lounged back in his chair, surveying the crowd. He caught the eye of a slim blonde, sashaying her way to the dance floor by herself. She looked at him and smiled, pointing to his head and giving him a thumbs-up. He smirked and pointed to the empty space beside her. She shrugged and cocked an eyebrow cheekily at him. Beaming, he got up and straightened his tuxedo. Ruffling his hair, he strode to the lady.

Maybe Cupid wasn't that bad after all.

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Reviews are highly appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I'd rather not, but for the sake of this story, I own the characters you've not read before.

**Warning: **Rated K+ for language.

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**Written for the QLFC challenge.**

**Prompts:**

(emotion) grief - catch being, I cannot use the word anywhere.

(words)- icicle, dawn

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The wind howled outside as he lay on the cold, hard floor of his cell. Lightning flashed across the skies, and a few seconds later, the roar clapped in his ears as he lay on his back, staring at the blank ceiling above.

They'd just meted out their dose for the day, and he could still hear the tortured shrieks of Laurie, the prisoner in the cell adjacent to his. He could almost imagine Laurie's short form crouching in defeat and pain near his bunker, begging for forgiveness from the Dementors, but as always, to no avail. It was in times like these that he envied the dead. Ah, what wouldn't he give to not feel anything again. To not be sucked of all joy and happiness; to not be left devoid of any identity, any memory. To be numb.

The memories still lingered in his mind – James's enthusiastic claps, Lily's sarcastic retorts to his witticisms, Remus's soft rebukes when his temper would get out of hand, Dumbledore's repeated reassurances of their safety – everything stayed on in his mind. He clasped onto them like a dying man, which he now probably was, with all his might. He was sucked dry of all pleasures, and every evening, the cloaked demons would come into his cell and...he suppressed an involuntary shudder at the desperation and helplessness he'd feel each time.

He squeezed his eyes shut as Laurie's screams died slowly, the Dementors having done their work for the night. This was the time when all the prisoners would be left with were their wretched thoughts, tortured bodies, and battered souls. This was the only time in this hellhole that they were left to themselves. Come the crack of dawn, and the ordeal would begin all over again.

Sighing, he turned to his side and closed his eyes. He had barely settled into sleep that there was a rhythmic stamping, unmistakably of boots. His ears perked up, and he furrowed his brow, tilting his head to the side as he tried to figure out the source. Just then, the stamps stopped, and the moonlight entering his cell was blocked. There was a darkness that penetrated through his closed eyelids and he did not hesitate one second before opening his eyes and looking at the obstacle. Immediately, he cursed inwardly.

General Preston. The most sadistic officer in all of London.

Not bothering to sit up, he lazily peered at the man through half-closed eyes, and Preston barked an order, "Open the cell." Immediately, a minion unlocked the cell, and Preston strode in, two juniors flanking him on either side.

"Prickly Preston. To what do I owe the pleasure of your uninvited company tonight?" drawled Sirius haughtily.

Narrowing his eyes till they were slits, Preston delivered a swift kick into Sirius's knees, and grunting in pain, Sirius sat up, rubbing his hands rapidly against his smarting knees.

"That's General to you, vermin," sneered Preston and clicking his fingers, ordered a search of Sirius's room. He lowered his head to look down at the convict and grunted, "What do you think you're forgetting right now?"

Sirius knew that this was a dance with the devil, but he wouldn't bow down to the likes of Preston so easily. Shrugging, he pondered, "Oh, I suppose I should offer you a beverage. But damn me if we get half a glass of decent water around my quarters."

Hissing, Preston bent and hauled the thin man up by his collar, clenching the robes tightly in his fist as he brought Sirius's face mere inches from his and muttered, "I see you still haven't lost your insolence."

"Well, that just stands to prove your lack of intellect and observational powers, _General_," Sirius but spat the words back at him.

_Whack._

Sirius was thrown to the ground by the resounding slap across his face. It was all so fast, he had barely time to register looking into the malevolent brown eyes of Preston that flickered with rage that his jaw hit the ground and he tasted the distinct coppery taste of his own blood. Heaving, he raised himself on his arms, and spat on Preston's shoe.

_Slam._

Another kick to his chest now. The man was just getting into his element. It was infamous about Preston that he'd not stop till either the weakest perished, or the most stubborn of all prisoners bucked and broke down. _Well, not so fast with me. You can take nothing from me; you left me with nothing anyway,_ thought Sirius as he pressed a hand to his chest and sat up. Raising his eyes to meet the contemptuous sneer of Preston, he mouthed, "Fuck you."

After that, it was all a blur. All he felt was the pressure or the pointed end of Preston's cane. Sometimes, the heel of his shoe. He grimaced as he bit on a broken molar, jaw throbbing painfully. Blood dribbled down his chin with saliva as Preston registered a ringing punch across his face. His spine tingled as the cane hit his vertebrae, his toes being crushed under the heel of Preston's shoe. Sirius knew that all Preston was doing was trying to break him, but he wouldn't bend that easy. This was one of the few times when Sirius spoke his name with pride. Although they were a bunch of bigoted arseholes, the Blacks were a stubborn, proud and unyielding lot. Sirius refused to shed a single tear or show the slightest trembling of his broken body. His arm was twisted behind his back and pain shot through his shoulder like a piercing icicle, jabbing at his nerves as Preston kneed him in the solar plexus.

Grunting in satisfaction when Sirius hissed in pain involuntarily, Preston tossed Sirius to the floor, stepping over his form to his juniors and wiping the sweat off his upper lip, shouted, "Did you find anything?"

"No, General, no knives, no wands, no scalpel, nothing," came the prompt reply.

Panting after his exertion, Preston ran his eyes over the little cell. It was small, stripped of any furnishings, and had plain stone walls that were magically enchanted. Everything seemed ordinary, he had to admit. But something caught his eye and he bent to pull out two photographs, one of which was peeking out an inch from under the mattress. They were not very old, maybe a couple of years at the most.

There were five, no, four people in the first – Sirius Black himself, hair grazing the nape of his neck as he grinned cheekily at the camera. His arm was slung around a taller man, with scars on his face and a resigned amused acceptance in his eyes. Glaring at Black was a short woman, with a baby swathed in blankets in her arms. She tenderly rocked the baby in her arms as she smirked triumphantly when a man wearing glasses askew on his nose and hair sticking up in all directions stuck a tongue out at Black who rolled his eyes in return. The photograph was carefully ripped near the spectacled man, and Preston could just about spot the shoulder of a rather small man near him. He did not pause to try and wonder.

Moving on to the next one, Preston was not really surprised to see the same people in it too, only changes being Black's hair strewn in a rather wild manner on his head. Despite that, he seemed happy, raising a glass of champagne, probably, at the camera, his arm clasping the waist of the woman who was now dressed in a wedding gown. Her eyes sparkled happily as she laughed at something the scar-faced man whispered in her ear, and the spectacled man was trying to pull Black's cheeks with a laugh etched on his face. Again, curiously, the photograph was torn neatly at the corner, the shoulder and a hand of someone, probably the same as in the first, was left again.

"What are...what are you doing with those?" whispered Sirius as he slowly gained consciousness and came to.

Preston whirled around and looked at the man. There was a spark alight in Black's eyes as he saw those photographs in his hand.

"G-give them back," spoke Sirius, as he painfully sat up, clenching his jaw as he tried not to grimace.

Preston extended his hand and Black reached for them eagerly, only to have Preston snatch away his hand at the last moment.

"No," he replied simply.

"What do you mean 'no'?" retorted Sirius.

"No, as in, no, I won't give them back to you," responded Preston slowly, purposely agonising the man.

There was a certain fire in Sirius's eyes as he leaped up and tried to grab the photographs. Preston yanked him back by grabbing a fistful of his long mane in his fist. Wincing, Sirius clawed desperately at his other hand, which held the photographs tantalisingly away from him.

"Stay back, rascal," growled Preston, half-expecting the man to wrench away from his grasp but was taken aback when he complied quickly.

"Pres-General, just give me those photographs. They can't do you any harm – they're just pieces of paper," spoke Sirius rapidly, an element of panic creeping into his tone as he lost that arrogance of his.

_Ah ha, Sirius Black_, thought Preston mentally, _I found your breaking point._

"I'm afraid I can't, mate. Rules are rules," shrugged Preston innocently.

Sirius pleaded desperately, "No, no, please. Do what you want to, just please don't take them away from me."

Preston slowly broke into a smirk as he arrived at an answer in his mind. "Are you sure?" he questioned.

Sirius nodded silently, his breath hitching. _No, Preston, do not take them away from me. You're a bastard, but not such a big one. They're all I have. Dear Merlin, please. Not them. Not now._

"Jackson! Fetch me the scissors, would you?" smiled Preston, a glint shining evilly in his eyes. Puzzled, Sirius looked as a pair of scissors materialised in Preston's hands and the man remarked, "Well, how about I cut off that shaggy mane of yours?"

Sirius froze. Not his hair. Long gone were the days when he refused to cut his hair for vanity's sake – his flowing locks were now the only reminder of the happy times he'd had with James, Lily and Remus. They were, in his unusual way, their only connection to his friends, departed and languishing.

"N-not my hair," stuttered Sirius.

"Oh?" drawled Preston, as he raised an eyebrow at him. "I suppose I should just take these then..."

"No!" cried out Sirius, hands outstretched. _Curse you, Preston,_ he though internally. Of course the wily officer had been able to pinpoint _his_ weakness.

"Well, why not?" questioned Preston innocently.

"No. Pr-General, please. Don't do this," scowled Sirius helplessly, a nervous palpitation coursing through his body.

"Alright," spoke Preston, as he raised the scissors to the photographs. "I suppose I'll just cut-"

"NO!" shouted Sirius and the officer froze, tilting his head dismissively toward the convict. The man now hung his head in defeat, his shoulders trembling.

"Well?" asked Preston, his lip curling up in a sneer.

Sirius took a deep breath and mumbled, "Don't take that, please."

Rolling his eyes, Preston turned back toward the photographs and started drawing the blades closer, just beginning to slice the photograph when he was knocked down to the ground. Two thin hands shot out and jostled for the photographs before Sirius was lifted up by his arms and pinned against the wall by the guards.

"Wh-why you..." growled Preston and threw the photographs to the ground. In a flash, he strode to tower over Sirius and grabbed a fistful of his hair. Eyes widening, Sirius whipped his head side to side, desperate to avoid the man. However, his activity ceased when a decisive _snip_ echoed through the cell. He froze, the cold wicked metal inching nearer to his scalp as Preston hacked away at his mane wildly. The pureblood's eyes were pinned to the ground, watching as each lock of hair was snipped and fell slowly to his feet. It felt like every memory of his friends was being taken away from him inch by inch.

_Snip._

Remus and Sirius hoisting James onto their shoulders and marching pompously around the room before tossing the groom-to-be onto the couch and acting like coy brides with him, while Peter simply sat and watched on at the fun.

_Snip._

Lily whirling around from the table as he threw a rag at her head, and her sarcastic replies at his attempts to rile her. Her eyes sparkling with suppressed laughter even as she scowled at him.

_Chop, chop, chop._

James being flustered and panicky when Lily went into labour, even as Remus held her other hand, his eyes wide open in pain as the little woman crushed his hand in a grip. James rubbing circles on her back soothingly. Sirius's calming words telling her to breathe deeply like _hee hee hoo hoo_ falling in her ears.

_Snip._

Remus staring at baby Harry wide-eyed, his chin quivering as Lily smiled and handed him the boy. His hands trembling in nervousness as he touched Harry's cheek, and his running out of the room to cry, overwhelmed, outside the door. James bouncing Harry awkwardly in his arms. Lily handing Sirius Harry, her eyes lightly brimmed with tears as she told him that Sirius would be the godfather. Sirius cradling Harry and a melancholic smile on his face.

_Chop, Chop, Chop._

Their years at Hogwarts – bunking Slughorn's lessons, flirting with girls for their notes, their Quidditch matches, prowling out after hours as Padfoot, trying to butter up McGonagall to escape her detentions, his summers at the Potter's.

_Snip._

As the last lock of hair that hung lower than his ear settled on the ground, the memories flooded his mind. He felt truly exposed now, and Preston stepped back as the guards released him and he fell on his knees. The night air seemed harsher now, a huge lump in his throat threatening to make his battered body tremble.

"Alright lads, let's clear out," smirked Preston, and his minions marched out. The officer paused for a second and looked at the convict who sat quietly, his cut hair scattered messily around him. Preston then bent to pick up the two photographs and strode out swiftly. He'd just locked the cell when Sirius registered the fact that the photographs were gone.

The man crawled to the bars and held his hand out, "Please, the-the photographs...you said..."

"Oh, I did, didn't I?" drawled Preston, and bent down to place the photographs just an inch out of Sirius's grasp. The prisoner clawed helplessly but before he could even touch one, Preston twirled his wand, "Incendio!"

Lips parted, Sirius gazed at the fire that consumed the photographs. The edges turning brown, curling up as the material charred, his outstretched hand a sickly yellow against the bright flame – it all seemed to be painfully slow. The moment seemed to stretch on forever, and yet when the fire died out and all that was left was black ashes, it seemed to have gone by in the wink of an eye.

"These may be _your_ quarters, Black, but don't you forget for one fucking second that this is _my _prison," spat Preston and stormed off.

It was the first time since his entry to Azkaban that the tears spilled from Sirius Black's eyes, the thin frame of the young man shuddering with each sob. The silence of the night was pierced by the broken man's helpless cries, and it was only till dawn that his tears dried up forever, and he felt truly dead inside.

-o0o-

Many years later, when he'd have broken out of Azkaban and there would be thorough searches of his cell to find any escape routes, no one would understand why there was a heap of ashes tucked under his pillow, or the engraving "_Mischief managed_" on the wall.

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**Written for the Lest We Forget collection.**

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Hi, my lovelies, and sorry for the delay. RL's been strangling me. Anyhow, here you go, and as of this update, _Chop, Chop, Chop _is officially complete. Thank you for all the support.

_This is for my friend Scar. Thanks. May your tribe increase._

**Thoughts and reviews are highly appreciated.**


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